🔉Never Mind
By PJ It is the strangest thing, but I strongly believe that I have lived a past life.I can’t remember all the details. The memories are a little fuzzy. It feels sometimes as if they are within reach, then in…
The Changing Sky
By Lillian Bradbury We are given life, we survive, we are protected.A region of gasses and vapours enclosedYet moving freely around our earthThey show a celestial sphere of bodies, luminous in the night sky. A waxing moon reveals the outline…
Spring Time
By Lillian Bradbury Nest building, cooing and couples a-wooingThe sound of a cuckoo somewhere.The vernal compulsions of buds through expulsionsBrings sweetness and life to the air. The first point of Aries when regrowth, it variesAs nature ascends from the earthSurging…
The Ground
By Lillian Bradbury Upon earth’s mantle we take different pathsSome travel across deserts scorched with droughtOr moraine climes where rocks and crags litterOthers cross terrains of wilderness, volcanic matter and ash. Striatal layers of minerals are laid down.Marble and gemstones,…
The Rainbow Garden
By Lillian Bradbury I remember the first time I saw you. A small gnome-like figure, squatting on your haunches inspecting a laurel bush. The leaves were mottled with earthy brown patches, and you brought the young tender branches nearer, almost…
🔉 The Drive Home
By PJ Hi, my name is Charlie, and I live in New Jersey. I’m on my way home, on my own, in my brand-new Buick, listening to the radio. I look forward to this time of day. I get some…
Rowena Draper
By Lillian Bradbury “You wouldn’t believe some of the things going on here. Quaint, sleepy Pickering… Don’t you believe it! Past and present, there’s more to this area than roaming the moors, visiting castle ruins and dodging film crews in…
The Perfect Plan to Lose All of Your Friends
By PJ I didn’t really have a perfect plan to lose my friends.It just worked out that way. When I sit and think about it, none of what happened can be ascribed to being entirely my fault. Some of the…
🔉 Phantosmia?
By Lillian Bradbury Dad sat bolt upright in bed as if he had been shot. He fled to the window, and through the half-light, he saw Mother with a bundle in her arms about to drop it into the water…
Heirloom
By Pat Barnett The beginning of this heirloom started with little caterpillars munching the leaves of a mulberry tree – then to the thread they spun; which was gathered and woven into lengths of fine silk. This story follows a…